


saint bernard

by inattention



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Imagery, atsumu is tobio's gay awakening, experimental writing style, i cannot write anything without blaspheming apparently, wrote this a long time ago and decided to post it now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inattention/pseuds/inattention
Summary: The first time he meets Miya Atsumu, he is dancing with him, a toe step and a twirl and several alternating spins, his hand holding his when there should really be a girl, and he is breathless, something that he will soon realize comes with being in close contact with someone as incandescent.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	saint bernard

The first time he meets Miya Atsumu, he is dancing with him, a toe step and a twirl and several alternating spins, his hand holding his when there should really be a girl, and he is breathless, something that he will soon realize comes with being in close contact with someone as incandescent.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This morning, he was told to be on his best behavior and that he should take care not to offend anyone. They told him that he would be taking dance lessons with children from other equally prominent families and it was important to foster his connections early. This was to be his first chance at interacting with people his age, and he should make sure to make the most of it.

He was prepared to make nice, to bow and nod and keep quiet, if nothing else sufficed. What he wasn’t prepared for was a boy sweeping him off his feet and leading him in a choreography he had no time to learn or familiarize.

“Yer pretty good,” the boy says in wonder, his eyes flickering with something resembling interest. “My name’s Atsumu Miya.”

He avoids his gaze. “Kageyama Tobio,” he mutters.

“This is yer first lesson, ain’t it? Haven’t seen ya around! Samu and I have been takin’ these since last year.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, and Atsumu laughs.  
“Yer a monster. How’d ya get this good already?”

Tobio is fifteen years old. He realizes that there is something in the pit of his stomach that churns in a way it hasn’t before – not with Shimizu Kiyoko, who came by with her mother for tea; not with Yachi Hitoka, who his parents hoped he would marry one day; not even with Haiba Alisa, who was the prettiest person he’d ever met.

Atsumu is still holding on to his hands, even when he’s sure they’re ice cold. He feels ice cold, if he’s being honest. Like his blood has stopped running and his body temperature has dropped to sub zero.

“Please,” Tobio grits out, “if you would, please let go of me.”

Atsumu tilts his head, curious, but he does as he’s told. Something tells Tobio that isn’t something that happens often. His brother shows up and collects him, mumbling half-hearted apologies; they look alike, dark hair, same features. Atsumu is nothing special, just another boy that he will end up forgetting as soon as classes end and he is in the carriage again, watching the buildings roll by, with their patchwork roofs and their neat little gardens.

But then, as he’s being corralled away like a cow escaping from a pasture, Atsumu turns to him and smiles, one that had no chance of looking pretty, all gums and teeth.

“Dance with me again, will ya, Tobio-kun?”

Tobio whispers a yes that he seals in his heart along with the edges of Atsumu’s too big smile. _Yes_ , he promises, _I will dance with you again._

He is fifteen. He is hardly a poet, and he hardly has any experience that merits the use of literature. He is just a boy, but his hands are burning. He is just a boy, but his soul is lit on fire. He is just a boy, but he was sure that it was not a boy who touched him.

He thinks of the shining, glittering Apollo, who heralded the rise and fall of the sun in his flaming chariot first, but then he remembers the rosary beads wrapped around his mother’s hands, his father’s long-winded rants about sin and sodomy, and his sister, silent and stern, carefully looking away from every girl she meets.

He doesn’t understand it yet. He thinks Atsumu must be the devil.

That was the last time he sees him for a long while.


End file.
